One day in the middle of March, our world took a deep breath and paused. At that moment, many of us looked up and asked, “Why?” In a flash, all of our plans, and some of our dreams, changed. Why? As a wife, mother, grandmother, sister, and friend, I have no answer. Even when I stood in front of a high school classroom on the morning of 9/11 as the adult-in-charge, I struggled to find words. Finally, I embraced the fact that words are seldom enough when it comes to life-and-death questions. Perhaps having the right words doesn’t matter. Experience has taught me that kindness helps more, and acts of kindness are necessary. In Corona Time, we’ve witnessed the saving grace of kindness all around the world and close to home. As we’ve stayed in place, we’ve had time to observe and applaud the courage and generosity of the everyday heroes who often go unnoticed: the nurses, doctors, respiratory therapists, first-responders, grocery-store employees, mail carriers, reporters, teachers, and good neighbors who are working every day to keep us safe, well, and connected.
I live in Bath, a city known for building the best sailing ships in the world. What many don’t know, and I’d like to share, is that Maine’s Cool Little City is also known for its kindness. The City of Bath even created a local, August holiday called Kindness Day. This year it’s on the community calendar for August 15, 2020. By then, I hope we can gather on Front and Centre Streets and celebrate the importance of being kind! In the meantime, I find courage in the kindness all around me. If you’ve ever seen a purple bumper sticker that says “Be Kinder Than Necessary,” that driver has been to Bath and wants to spread the word.
In 1845, Alexandre Dumas, the author of The Count of Monte Cristo, wrote, “All human wisdom is contained in these two words: Wait and Hope!" In Corona Time, those words still ring true. In the midst of COVID-19, all we can do is wait and hope, and in Bath, Maine, we’ve been following that plan the best we can. For a city respected for building grand homes with beautiful doors and granite steps, side porches, cupolas, and wrought-iron fences; wooden docks, red brick stores, churches with magnificent spires, and a fairy-tale library, our streets are unusually quiet these days, but neighbors are still planting seeds, making bread, leaving books in the door, and sending homemade masks to friends and strangers in need! Like people around the globe, they’re connecting in new ways with Zoom and Facebook Live. Without a doubt, we’re in touch with our CREATIVE side! And oddly, as we put on masks, we’re showing our feelings more clearly than ever before.
In the early weeks of staying at home, little toy bears appeared in windows as the word spread that moms and dads were looking for ways to entertain their children. My neighbor sent me a link telling how his son’s neighborhood had created a window safari, not dissimilar to the quest for Waldo, Carmen San Diego, or gold bug in Richard Scarry’s
Cars and Trucks and Things that Go. I immediately found my daughter’s old teddy bear and placed it in one of our front windows. As time went by, more and more bears, and even a few dogs, an elephant, and a friendly moose, showed up in windows all around town. One afternoon, I went out for a walk and, much to my surprise, spied two bears in the window of the Patten Free Library’s reading room—a sign that the library wasn’t closed forever; it was just napping.
As spring rolls in, the sun is shining more; people are out more, and they're walking, biking, and running with a sense of purpose. We have to keep moving forward, though when it's necessary, we need to stop, or step off the sidewalk and onto the road, to keep our social distance. Driven to be out, but trying to follow the rules, I started running a new route. Along the way, I’ve found big hearts and lots of inspiration. My favorite stretch is along High Street between Harward and Park; I’m especially fond of the intersection at High and Whiskeag, which offers a stunning view of Governor William King’s stone house. Honestly, the only reason I’m motivated to run up Harward, a steep hill, is the promise of peace at the top. And I’m not the only one who seeks that feeling—I’m rarely alone when I reach High Street.
Last week, the flower booth at High and Whiskeag, spruced up with a new wooden frame, opened for “curbside” business. For five dollars (cash or PayPal), you can take home a bunch of cut flowers. It’s the best deal on High! If flowers don’t draw you to that peaceful part of town, read the signs. Just a little over a hundred yards away, there’s a house with a yellow door that posts an inspirational saying every week. Whenever I pass that door, I slow down to read the message, and the kindness fills me up. I don’t know who lives there, but I’m glad they do. Between the flower booth and the yellow door, there’s another act of kindness. A few days ago, my husband and I walked by a woman who was putting the finishing touches on a giant heart—made of white stones and framed by dozens of small clay pots. She told us it was her sign of hope. Her daughter is an ER nurse in a Massachusetts hospital. We kept our social distance, but we talked for a bit. I told the woman with the heart covering her yard that my son was a critical care doctor in Connecticut. If it’s possible to hug from six feet away, we hugged. It certainly felt like a good, strong bear hug.
I’ve always believed that laughter is a healing force, and in Corona Time, I’ve come to appreciate the gift of laughter more than ever. In towns across America, the comedians among us have kept us laughing. In Bath, the Chocolate Church Arts Center brought us “Live from Home with Johnny Ater!” on April 25
th, and in our too quiet house, my husband and I watched and laughed out loud. When we moved to Bath seven years ago, John was the first tradesman we met; it was an auspicious beginning. Since then, John Ater has painted our house inside and out. When he's not painting, he's on stage performing. I think he's a magician who turns ordinary events into knee-slapping humor! The greatest comedians are
wicked smart, and Johnny Ater is wicked! Of course, he isn’t the only humorist in Bath. While strolling through City Park one afternoon, I spied a hot pink bra on Zorach’s beloved “Spirit of the Sea." Wouldn’t you love to know who landed that joke in the heart of Bath?
Next to laughter, I think the deep blue sea and all the rivers that flow into it are medicine for the soul. We’re blessed if we live near water, but even if we don’t, we can always imagine the smell of salt air, the rhythm of rowing a boat, the freedom of sailing, and the joy of splashing. In May, boats will begin to slip into the water, and people will begin to enjoy their watercrafts in old familiar ways, but “sitting on the dock of the bay, watching the tide roll away” will not feel the same.
On land or at sea, change is inevitable, and this season is bound to change our view, but the salt air will still smell good, and the water will still refresh us. Together, let’s hope for a big summer splash and a bright, healthy future!
